


If You Need A Reason

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Groping, Holiday Fic Exchange, Kissing, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Written in 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk usually really, really hates Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Need A Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kirk/Spock Advent 2009. Beta read by cardiac_logic, illustrated by soliandxpyne here (http://soliandxpyne.livejournal.com/90926.html#cutid1)

It was not really a coincidence that Christmas fell right in the middle of mandatory leave. Several Earth holidays and some holidays of other planets as well fell right around the same time of the standard year, so that’s when one of the two mandatory Starfleet leaves took place. What was unexpected was that Kirk was spending this particular leave on New Vulcan.  
  
It had been McCoy’s idea; he’d wanted to see the Ambassador, and Commander Spock hadn’t said no to going with him to the Vulcan colony and Kirk really didn’t have anywhere else to be. So New Vulcan it was - hot, dry, dusty, full of Vulcans and completely different from Christmas in Iowa, which was for the best as far as Kirk was concerned, since Christmas never brought back good memories for him. The only decent memories of Christmas he had were of spending it getting drunk with Bones in their dorm room at the Academy, everything before that Kirk would sooner just forget.  
  
It’s Christmas Eve and he’s getting drunk because it’s his favorite Christmas tradition, and he’s doing it in the little house all three of them rented since he really doesn’t feel like watching McCoy and the Ambassador argue all evening. He sprawls on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt, not bothering with shoes or socks because it’s hot enough to have him sweating down his back anyway. It’s impossible to buy alcohol on New Vulcan, but he’d thought ahead and brought the whisky with him. He wishes Bones had stuck around to drink it with him.  
  
He tips some back and tries not to think about what day it is. When he was very young he used to think his family was normal - that this was how everyone celebrated Christmas. His mother was gone - working on some space station, ship or colony - more than she was there, her loyalty to Starfleet far outweighing her loyalty to family, evidently. His stepfather hadn’t even tried, hadn’t even pretended that he cared, had gone out with his friends or gotten drunk or watched the game and totally ignored the kids unless they got in his way or pissed him off. There hadn’t been much celebrating; there hadn’t been much of anything actually, and those were the good memories. After all there is always the Christmas on Tarsus IV to _not_ remember. He is beginning to think he should have brought more whisky with him.  
  
Kirk takes another long swig and looks up in time to see Spock standing just inside the door watching him. Kirk eyes Spock, watching the way Spock stands very still just on the other side of the living room. It’s gotten dark out while Kirk’s been distracted by his alcohol induced pity trip. The shallows make Spock’s eyes look darker, his cheekbones higher, his skin paler. Kirk sighs to himself and tightens his grip on the bottle. He doesn’t need this right now. What he needs is to be left alone to get drunk in peace so he can be cheerful tomorrow on Christmas for Bones’ sake. Either that or he needs Bones here with him now, so that they can get drunk together and Bones can get maudlin about not being on Earth with Joanna and Kirk can remember that he’s not the only one who hurts this time of year. What he doesn’t need is Spock in a dark, heavy Vulcan suit, heavy pants that look almost unbearably hot, and a flowing, geometrically stylized top that looks even more uncomfortable, making him look younger than he has any right to. He doesn’t need Spock standing there staring at him with an expression that gives nothing away and his far too emotional dark eyes, which always make Kirk feel judged and found wanting.  
  
“Doctor McCoy sent me to find you,” Spock tells him, voice cool and emotionless, and Kirk rubs one hand across his eyes.  
  
“Well you found me.” He bites down hard on the _and now what are you going to do with me?_ Wrong time, wrong place, wrong person. He takes another drink instead, feels it burn down his throat, and watches Spock’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly; Spock is getting pissed off - well good, let him, maybe he’ll go away and stop looking at Kirk like that, like he’ll never stop being the cadet that cheated on Spock’s test. It makes Kirk feel angry, frustrated, makes him want to grab Spock, push him, hold him down and kiss him, rough and violent, until both of their lips bleed.  
  
He doesn’t of course, he doesn’t because he is Spock’s Captain, and because Spock is a very, very good first officer. Mostly he doesn’t, though, because there has been something brittle and a little broken about Spock since the destruction of Vulcan, and Kirk can’t help but feel guilty every time he sees it because he knows he helped put it there. He knows he’d only make it worse if he kissed Spock, because then he’d fuck it up - and he would fuck it up, because he always does. He takes another drink and Spock moves across the room, fast and silent.  
  
“I believe it is a sign of mental instability to drink alcohol alone,” Spock informs him seriously, fingers laced in front of him, and Kirk almost laughs.  
  
“Well I’m not drinking alone, I have you.” He mock salutes Spock with the bottle, grins and tips some more back. Spock just stands there and watches him for a minute, then sits on the couch.  
  
“Doctor McCoy and the Ambassador are debating Christmas traditions,” Spock informs him, and Kirk takes another drink. They sit there quietly for a few more minutes. “Do you celebrate any of the Earth holidays that fall within this season?” Spock finally asks him, and Kirk really wishes he hadn’t.  
  
“No.” He hopes Spock will leave it alone, and miraculously he only nods. They fall silent again and Kirk takes another swig, keenly aware that Spock is watching him and that he’s sitting mere inches away from Kirk on the couch and this is probably a very bad time for Kirk to be getting drunk. If he gets drunk with Spock here, he might do something stupid, like maybe finding out if that rumor he’d heard about Vulcans being able to come from someone sucking their fingers is true.  
  
“May I inquire as to why you are becoming inebriated alone in a dark room?” Spock asks, and Kirk can’t help but smile a little bitterly. He tilts his head to the side, watching Spock through his lashes in a way that would be provocative if it hadn’t been totally lost on the other man.  
  
“You can ask, Spock, but I’m probably not going to tell you.”  
  
Spock turns slowly to face him, hands folded in his lap, and Kirk watches how the inner shirt he’s wearing under the heavy dark one comes to points over the back of each hand, making his hands look longer than normal, his wrists almost effeminate.  
  
“Why?” Spock asks, serious and emotionless as always, and Kirk has the overwhelming desire to push him, to keep pushing him until Spock breaks and slams him against the nearest hard surface, puts those delicate hands around his neck again. Kirk licks his lips.  
  
“Because I don’t feel like it.”  
  
Spock moves then and Kirk doesn’t even have time flinch away before Spock’s grabbed the bottle away from him and sets it a little harder than necessary on the table next to the couch. “Why?” His voice is as soft and even as ever, but there is something dark and uncontrollable underneath. “I do not understand why you must always push me.”  
  
Kirk just sits there for several long minutes staring at Spock, seemingly calm and unruffled as ever, and he thinks of the bowed line of Spock’s shoulders after he’d watched his mother die, thinks of the feeling of Spock’s fingers around his neck, the raw hate, anger, and yes, passion that had come off the other man in waves. He’s been sitting here in a crappy mood for far too long, he’s had too much to drink, and he doesn’t know what to do. He never knows what to do when it comes to Spock.  
  
“What else is there?” he asks the wall across the room instead of watching how his rhetorical question has no effect on the other man.  
  
Spock actually does sigh at that, and Kirk’s head whips around at the tiny sound and then Kirk’s moving, acting without thinking because sometimes that’s best, because he wants and wants and wants like he’s on fire, and he kisses Spock open mouthed and desperate and Spock’s hands clamp around both his wrists tight enough to leave bruises and Spock pushes him back, breaking the kiss that hadn’t even quite begun yet.  
Kirk lets out a breath, doesn’t try to fight Spock’s still painfully tight grip on his arms. “So that’s how it is.”  
  
“No.” Kirk is starting to think Spock’s definitely getting angry at him, which is only confirmed when Spock uses his grip on Kirk’s wrists to shake him hard. “No, this is not ‘how it is,’ _Jim_.”  
  
Kirk stares at him dumbly, because he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever heard his first name pass Commander Spock’s lips. Spock stands suddenly, dragging Kirk to his feet as well, and Kirk feels a sudden stab of something that’s not quite fear. He’s always a little surprised at how very much stronger than him Spock is.  
  
“Put on your boots, Captain,” Spock says, all calm and professional, and Kirk roots around the couch until he finds them and gets them on. Then Spock’s hands are back, all fierce and controlling on Kirk’s wrists, and Spock bodily hauls him out of the house and to their ground car. Spock pushes Kirk into the front seat and then gets in too, and Kirk’s not sure why he’s letting Spock do this except for the fact that his head is buzzing and Spock is actually pretty hard to say no to when he gets all stern and commanding.  
  
They drive in silence, but Kirk’s not at all surprised when they pull up in front of Ambassador Spock’s house. Spock gets out of the car and Kirk’s half way out himself when Spock’s hand clamps around Kirk’s forearm. Spock practically drags him into his alternative self’s house.  
  
“Spock, we can’t have that.” McCoy’s voice is loud and not very happy.  
  
“What is wrong with it?”  
  
“It’s an illusion. Just data input and colored lights. Not a real Christmas tree.”  
  
“And where would you suggest we find a real Christmas tree, Leonard?”  
  
Spock drags Kirk into the living room and both Ambassador Spock and Bones turn, surprised from where they’ve been arguing in the kitchen.  
  
“Doctor McCoy, your assistance is needed,” Spock informs him without letting go of Kirk’s arm, and Kirk’s starting to feel kind of pissed off about being hauled around like a child. He twists against Spock’s grasp, which does no good whatsoever; Spock doesn’t even look at him and Bones moves out of the kitchen toward where they stand in the middle of the Ambassador’s living room.  
  
“What’s going on, Spock?”  
  
A very good question; Kirk wants to know the answer himself.  
  
“I located the Captain as you asked, and discovered him mildly inebriated,” Spock informs Bones, who sighs and shakes his head.  
  
“Oh Jim.” Kirk glares at him and Bones roots around in his coat, which is slung over the couch, until he comes up with a hypospray. He presses it against Kirk’s neck very professionally.  
  
“Ow.” Kirk rubs his neck and Bones snorts and rolls his eyes.  
  
“That should do the trick.” He tosses the hypo towards his coat and heads back to the kitchen where Ambassador Spock’s been watching them with an air of mild amusement. “I suggest you go splash some cold water on your face,” McCoy calls back over his shoulder.  
  
Spock finally lets go of Kirk’s arm as Bones pushes his way past the Ambassador into the kitchen, and Kirk rubs his neck and then his arm and glares at Spock and then Bones’ back, not missing the way the Ambassador’s fingers linger against Bones’ shoulder as he passes or that Bones leans into the touch. Like he needed another reason to be in a bad mood; Commander Spock wouldn’t even let Kirk kiss him and Bones was getting it on with the Ambassador, just fabulous.  
  
He stomps through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, lets the water run for a minute and then splashes some on his face. He glances up into the mirror and sighs at the sight of himself, blond hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes. _You look old_ , he thinks morosely at his reflection, then glances behind himself in the mirror and freezes. He lets his hands, still cupping water, drop, and turns around to face Spock, who’s leaning in the doorway still looking extremely unhappy. They stare at each other for a moment and then Kirk is moving, and Spock takes several steps into the bathroom, the door sliding closed behind him. Spock’s hands are around his upper arms again and Spock spins him in one long, fluid motion and slams Kirk up against the bathroom door. Then they’re kissing, and Kirk groans into Spock’s mouth and Spock’s tongue pushes into his mouth with force and Spock’s hands are everywhere, too hot, leaving Kirk feeling like he’s been burned. Spock keeps pushing him against the door with little thudding motions as they kiss, and Kirk’s almost frantic to get closer, twisting his legs around Spock’s, and Spock lifts him and Kirk gets his legs around Spock’s waist, and Spock presses his whole body between Kirk’s thighs.  
  
A far off part of Kirk’s mind that’s not being deep-fried by the things Spock’s doing with his lips and tongue wonders how things got so out of control so fast, but the rest of him just wants to get closer, just wants this never to stop, because he can feel Spock - Spock’s body against his and all the things Spock doesn’t like to even admit to feeling - and Spock’s hands are everywhere, raking down Kirk’s thighs, grabbing firmly at his ass, stroking across his shoulders, up and down his sides. Kirk wants to touch Spock like that too, but his hands have tangled in Spock’s dark hair and it’s soft against his hands and Spock’s mouth is hot, tasting of spices, and Spock’s rocking against him in short little cut-off movements and Kirk just can’t stop moaning like a damn porn star and God he would be finding this totally hilarious if it was happening to anyone else. Spock bites at his lips and Kirk pulls away long enough to pant open-mouthed, clawing at Spock’s shoulders trying to pull him closer, even though he very much doubts that’s even possible.  
  
“We should rejoin the Ambassador and Doctor McCoy,” Spock informs him between nipping a slow, wet path up the side of Kirk’s neck, and Kirk makes a wordless embarrassingly high-pitched sound and kisses Spock again.  
  
“You could have done this back at the house,” Kirk tells Spock when the pull apart again.  
  
“No,” Spock shakes his head slightly, “I could not do this while you were intoxicated.”  
  
Kirk rolls his eyes and gets totally distracted by Spock’s hands holding him up against the door and kneading his ass at the same time. He can feel Spock is hard, their bodies pushed so close together the friction would be perfect if they weren’t wearing clothes, which is sounding like a better and better idea to Kirk. He can’t help but thrust awkwardly against Spock, even as Spock pushes against him hard; he’s one step away from coming in his pants at this rate, especially when one of Spock’s hands leaves his ass to slip into the waistband of Kirk’s jeans, and there isn’t enough room between them for Spock to get anywhere near Kirk’s painfully hard dick. Still though, it’s good enough that Kirk throws back his head and bites his lip hard to keep from crying out.  
  
Spock bites at Kirk’s neck hard before he finally pulls away and Kirk slides to the floor still pressed against the wall, panting and trying to pull himself together. He runs his fingers through his hair and then smoothes it back down, and Spock runs one hand down the front of his suit.  
  
They both step out together into the hall and make their way back to the living room where there is now a large Christmas tree smelling strongly of pine. McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and smirks when he sees them, and the Ambassador looks up from the couch, face carefully blank, and Kirk gets the sinking feeling that the house is not as soundproof as he would have liked.  
  
“Where did you acquire a Christmas tree?” Spock asks, saving them both very the embarrassing questions McCoy has probably saved up just for this moment.  
  
“Scotty replicated it onboard the Enterprise. Turns out he can beam things larger than a grapefruit across planet-wide distances,” McCoy tells him. “His Christmas Eve is going fine, by the way; he and Uhura send their love and Christmas greetings and promise the refits will be done by New Years.”  
  
Spock circles the tree, which has been decked out in Christmas lights. “So this is in fact tradition?”  
  
McCoy rubs one hand across the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful, “Yeah.”  
  
He looks across at Kirk for confirmation; Kirk nods.  
  
“Dinner is ready,” the Ambassador informs them, standing and moving into the kitchen followed closely by McCoy and after a moment Kirk and Spock.  
  
“You both may take the guest room,” Ambassador Spock informs them over dinner. Kirk and Spock exchange a look and McCoy hides his grin behind his drinking glass. Kirk wonders if it’s such a good idea really; he’s not sure he wants their first time to be in the older Spock’s guest bedroom. On the other hand, Spock’s knee is warm where it keeps bumping his like they’re teenagers on their first date, and McCoy and Ambassador Spock keep trading sweet, shy little glances over the table. There is a Christmas tree in the living room, and tomorrow Kirk will be waking up next to Spock for the first time ever that doesn’t involved near death, but may involve sweet kisses and morning sex. Then they’ll most likely be dragged into the living room where McCoy will give them all Christmas presents. Looking back on all the years he’s spent alone - all the years of doing it wrong - Kirk decides he can live with this.


End file.
